


Licking My Lips

by gala_apples



Category: Locke & Key (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Bisexuality, Crushes, F/M, Food Sex, Ice Cream, M/M, No Twist Ending, Oral Sex, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Matheson is a town where people express their feelings through food. Scot is no different.
Relationships: Scot Cavendish/Gabe/Kinsey Locke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Licking My Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the food play prompt for seasonofkink. 
> 
> This trio deserves a fix it. I was so happy at Kinsey's suggestion of poly in episode nine, and then episode ten ruined everything. Until season two comes out and fully Josses me, this is my new ending.

Scot tells the Savinis. Not all of it, of course. He can’t say anything about the keys, that secret is already too widely spread with Eden and Jackie and Logan knowing. He can’t say that he was summoned late at night to help carry a body to a sea cave. But he goes on at length about Kinsey’s newfound confidence having her ask for multiple partners. About how he did the right thing, of course, saying that an inability to choose was a choice, and he’d have no part of it. About how much that hurt, to walk away from the cutest girl he’d ever kissed.

Two weeks later and it’s still a topic of conversation. Understandably, Gabe has started spending less time in Scot’s basement. Without equipment to work with, there’s no film to be made. Even if there were, Scot doubts he’d come over. Doug, ever vocal with his opinions, goes off seemingly every five minutes about the sluts who ruined everything. Zadie, equally an oversharer when it comes to what’s in her head, rolls her eyes every time he does.

“Figures,” she says one time when Scot makes eye contact with her a second too long after her typical reaction to Doug’s standard venting. “You get him to have all your other emotions too.”

Scot can see where Zadie’s coming from. He does have a history of pleasantry at all costs, knowing if something truly matters in a group setting Zadie and Doug are safe bets to rectify the situation. Zadie’s wrong about this though. Doug’s demonstrating hate and dogpiling from anger. Destruction of teenage dreams is an end of the world offence, unless you happen to have a perspective widened from condemning someone evil to a hell dimension. Scot’s feeling a lot closer to regret than anger. 

A part of it is he misses Kinsey and Gabe. Even if the Savinis weren’t hostile, new couples tend to isolate. Scot’s been friends with Gabe for two and a half years. A few classes together is not enough, not when most texts go unreplied. Bad date etiquette, Scot knows, replying to a message when out with your girlfriend. He gets it, it just sucks. Weirdly, he misses Kinsey nearly as much, despite the much shorter incubation time for their friendship. 

Another part is far less platonic. Kinsey is hot as hell. Scot didn’t get too far with her, her mind was on other things and he can respect that. That didn’t stop him from imagining what it would be like to be balls deep inside her. Doesn’t stop him, present tense. He wants her pink hair sweaty and matted to her head from exertion. But it goes further than that. There are the nights under the sheets when Kinsey’s _not_ in his thoughts. Scot’s a teenager in 2020, he knows his identity politics. Assuming his own heterosexuality then jerking off imagining Gabe blowing him only means he has to move a notch over on the spectrum. The gender of it all isn’t important, it’s that it’s such an awkward choice for first male crush. He had his chance and he fucked it up. Piling up the Kleenex about it won’t change anything.

As the weeks go by though, and the feelings don’t fade, Scot decides he has to deal with this. He has the slimmest of chances to get what he wants, or at least to trade up from entirely crappy deal to moderate. He’d rather be the jealous friend than the friend who never speaks to them again. And there’s only one way that’s going to happen.

This is not the first time he’s stuffed a pint of ice cream in a cooler bag and driven to Kinsey’s house. The difference is this time he knows Gabe is over, rather than be blindsided. The difference is, he’s got two pints in the bag; mint chip and butterscotch ripple.

Kinsey answers the door looking great in a band t-shirt cut up and altered and jeans worn soft. Lest Scot be under the impression that he can have this one moment to himself, breathing in her presence, she takes a step to the left and Gabe sidles up. Different band shirt, different shade of jeans. Exact same urge to weave his hand through his hair and go down on him.

Well, no sense in beating around the bush. It’s one of his best qualities, committing to honesty. Not telling Zadie and Doug about the biggest event of his life has been killing him. If it was Scot’s own story to tell, he’d have shared in a heartbeat.

“I fucked up.”

Kinsey raises her eyebrows, not content to give him an inch. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m sure you’re already sick of my apologies-” Scot can never forgive himself for the multiple anxiety attacks he gave her during filming, “but the best I can do is be honest about it. I miss you. I want you to date me again, and if that means Gabe’s there too, so be it.”

Scot’s had the time to imagine all Kinsey’s responses. Shock, anger, laughter both mocking and relieved, happiness. But Kinsey wouldn’t be Kinsey without the ability to constantly surprise. Instead of following one of the many scripts Scot’s imagined she says “I never said Gabe would be there too.” 

“Oh.” Oh shit.

“Do you _want_ Gabe to be there too?”

“Uh.” Oh Christ on a pogo stick, he really wasn’t expecting to be the one answering questions. And if this wasn’t Kinsey’s intention that Gabe agreed to when Scot couldn’t, a month ago, then this might be the first time Gabe’s ever considered his sexuality beyond compulsory heterosexuality. Oh shit, oh fuck, is he about to be punched in the jaw like it’s some nineties movie?

“So that’s a yes. Gabe, do you have any inclination towards Scot?” Kinsey asks, twisting to face him. The thick strands of hem cut to fringe sway as she moves. It’s odd, how captivating it is, when all his attention should be focused on how Gabe is reacting to the sudden interrogation about sexuality status. 

“Kinsey, I don’t know if-”

Kinsey interrupts Gabe’s shallow act of reluctance. “That’s a yes too.”

Scot wonders if she was this confrontational before killing her fear. Maybe so, actually. He remembers that second conversation over lunch, her sole purpose being trying to get him to fuck off. Aggro or not, she’s right. Gabe doesn’t let out a single protest or correction, just stands there with his arms crossed across his Green Day shirt. Scot is flashed with the urge to bite the tendon of his forearm and tries to stamp it down before he attributes too much to this moment. 

“So three yeses for triangle dating instead of v dating. Scot, is that mint chocolate chip you have in there?”

“Yes?” He manages to reply to the non sequitur from mini orgy relationships. 

“Nice. I’ve missed it, giving you and your store space.”

“Well, in part,” he clarifies. “I also have butter ripple.” 

“Wow, you really did want to make it up to me.” Gabe’s lived here long enough to understand food as condolence, food as romance, food as any emotion. 

“Let’s go eat some ice cream.”

After a brief dip into the kitchen for spoons they’re in Kinsey’s room. She locks the door the moment the two of them have past the threshold. Unless Bode or Tyler have found a Masterkey Key, they’re now guaranteed privacy. Scot can’t begin to imagine how this relationship negotiation conversation might go, but he knows freshly churned cool goodness can’t hurt. He opens the bag to reveal the two cheerfully decorated pints. It’s with a bit of surprise that Scot sees Kinsey go for the butter ripple instead of the chocolate mint, but hey, if she wants to open the pint that her boyfriend will like more, Scot will take anything that makes Gabe a little more happy and suggestible.

Kinsey gouges her spoon into the butter ripple and pulls out a hunk big enough to fill the bottom of a cone. And then in a stunning move drops the chunk on the hollow of her neck where the heat of her body makes it begin to melt. 

“Come on Gabe, I thought it was your favourite.”

Once again Scot is reminded that Gabe doesn’t have hesitation in his psyche the way he does. Upon being prompted Gabe doesn’t wait a second before licking a strip of exposed chest. It shouldn’t be that scandalous. Yeah it’s a neckline Kinsey’s cut for herself, but it’s nothing deeper than a normal scooped neckline shirt she could wear to class without getting detention. It’s funny how one added element makes it the sexiest thing Scot’s ever seen. 

Gabe licks in huge wide tongued mouthfuls until the butter ripple is mostly gone. Only spotty smears are left, and a wet collar from what didn’t get licked up fast enough. This is Scot’s chance, he thinks, to nut up or bow out. He crosses the few steps and begins to help Kinsey pull off her shirt. Her skin on his hands after all this time is electric.

When Kinsey gets down to bra and panties, she falls back onto her bed. Her pillowcases are yellow checkerboard print, and they make the pink streak stand out all the more as her hair splays out. Scot looks across to Gabe. Who gets to fall on top of her and devour her, Scot wonders. Do they rock paper scissors for it? Is it his turn, as a reunion with her, or Gabe’s opportunity to prove her rekindled interest in Scot doesn’t mean he’s not just as important? There are so many ways to write this script, it’s hard to know what would please the metaphorical audience most.

“Get naked, Scot.” Gabe tells him.

“Uh-” Scot starts.

“No, do it,” Gabe rebuts, like Scot’d offered him a refusal rather than confusion.

Scot does it. He strips off his t-shirt and his jeans and his underwear, and he genuinely doesn’t know who he’s hoping is looking at him more intently, Gabe or Kinsey. It’s so weird to want them both to be devoted to him. It seems selfish. But he can’t deny it, how fucking turned on he is because he can feel Kinsey’s eyes on him from the bed but Gabe reaches out to stroke his hand up his bare chest. Gabe doesn’t have any callouses -how could he, he’s not a mechanic or carpenter- but his hand feels so much different than Kinsey’s.

Seeing Gabe’s erection makes his heart beat a little faster. Scot’d like to crack a nervous joke about the Kinsey scale, but he’s certain she’s heard every variety before. Instead he finds his comforts by other means, mainly by laying on the bright sheeted bed elbow to elbow with Kinsey.

Gabe stalks towards the bed too, stopping to pick up the opened pint on the way. Scot doesn’t know what Gabe has on his mind until it’s happening, until he’s spooning a fat crescent of butter ripple and using his thumb to lever it off the spoon. The frigid temperature of ice cream dropped on his dick is wild. Scot’s balls draw up and he literally cannot tell if it’s because they want to escape the freeze or if he’s about to come. Then Gabe’s confident mouth swoops down and encompasses him and the definition of wild changes entirely.

As Scot lays there getting the best blowjob of his short life, a thin thread of his mind manages to think about something other than himself. Namely, Kinsey. Scot doesn't even know how to go about including Kinsey without stopping his love-making with Gabe, and Scot doesn't think that’s possible at this point. There’s no way he’s not going to come in Gabe’s mouth, the bitter edge in a sea salt & butter ripple double scoop. But Kinsey. Something, he’s gotta do something here.

It hits him, after Scot shoots down Gabe’s throat. He knows what his method is now. Scot simply must offer the same to Kinsey. He fumbles until he can find the pint, the waxed cardboard slick now with condensation. The ice cream he gathers is distinctly melty now, not wanting to stay on the spoon. That’s fine. Scot doesn’t want it to stay on the spoon anyway. He drops the melty clump on where he thinks Kinsey’s clit is, immediately getting a whimpery gasp. It’s hard to say who’s more delighted with the reaction. Scot for properly portraying the concept of ice cream oral, Kinsey for getting to feel the mad freezing sensation, or Gabe, who is straight up grinning.

Scot wriggles down on the bed in order to clean up the mess he’s made. He’s not quite as confident in his movements as Gabe, but he tries to make up for it with his enthusiasm. Nine times out of ten, a dead performance is worse than a bad performance on screen, he can’t imagine the bedroom is any different. Sure enough, Kinsey reacts positively, squirming on the bed, legs kicking as the cold cream melts to liquid against her most sensitive bits. Scot always thought a girl would clamp her thighs against his ears and try to crush his skull like a grape, but this uncontrollable writhing is just as complimentary.

Gabe comes before Kinsey does. He comes squirting onto Kinsey’s pelvis, just a little above where the smears of ice cream start. Scot can’t help but wonder if he did it unasked, or if they’ve already had this talk. Maybe they’ve been coming on each other the whole time he’s been sitting around with Zadie and Doug in extended mourning for the film they’ll never finish. It calls to him, a lot. He’d like to lick it off and let it mingle with the butter ripple on his tongue. And Gabe got to taste him, it’d be only fair. He doesn’t though, instead stays focused on his task of getting Kinsey there. Mutual satisfaction is nearly as important to Scot as consent is, and he can only imagine Gabe feels the same, considering the ice cream he drops onto Kinsey’s upper breast. Gabe licks the butter ripple away from the lace edge of the bra she’s still wearing as Scot continues to lave her pussy. Together they’ll get an orgasm, and it’ll be proof that two boyfriends are better than one.

There’s no rush to get dressed again once everything is over. A perk of living in a mansion, Scot guesses, having the confidence that no one heard and misconstrued the sob of your orgasm, and is about to knock on the door out of concern. Scot likes the feeling of this, sitting around mostly naked and covered in fluids, laughing and smiling. Even if Doug beheads him for this betrayal, Scot can’t imagine walking away from the duo. 

“Next time you’ll have to bring over your favourite flavour,” Kinsey comments.

“A, I truly appreciate the implication that we can try this kink out again. I call dibs on the blowjob. B, you know I’m going to be considering configuration the whole shift the next time I work, right? With reiteration of I call dibs on the blowjob. Understood?”

Gabe laughs. “I’m not gonna say no to a blowjob, dude.”

“Maybe we’ll drop in next shift, give you a fresh visual to work into your daydreams. It’d be easier with the Anywhere Key, but we can Uber too,” Kinsey says.

Scot’s pretty sure if they show up at Matheson Creamery to make out over banana splits he’s going to spend the rest of his shift with a stiffie. He’s certain it’s a price he’s happy to pay.


End file.
